


sucker for you

by chatsdelune (greymooses)



Series: 30 days of svt [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: ... sort of. it plays a role., 30 Days of Writing, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee, Environmentalism, First Dates, M/M, Sickfic, bi!chan, but also he's whipped how is that not a tag, chan just needs to get paid, i still have an italics problem but chan just feels like an italics kinda guy, vernon loves animals okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26800081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greymooses/pseuds/chatsdelune
Summary: the radio in his truck crackles, followed by a heavy sigh that could only belong to jihoon. "channie, your boyfriend is here again."chan grits his teeth and whines, "he's not my boyfriend.""whatever, just get over here and deal with him."
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Lee Chan | Dino
Series: 30 days of svt [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949296
Comments: 5
Kudos: 120





	sucker for you

**Author's Note:**

> day threeeee this was like pulling teeth but whatever, still having fun feeding some dead rarepair tags, so forward into the abyss we go! tomorrow is a jeonghan ship because birthday so stick around for that i guess. title an obvious sucker reference, because [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZPzEoIba8Y).
> 
> "felling" is cutting down trees, in case anyone is unaware.
> 
> prompt: You chained yourself to a tree for some kind of political statement and I’m the guy in the tractor waiting to start developing this new parking lot so would you please move already ugh…

chan doesn’t ask for much in life, he doesn't think. all he really requests from the universe is that he make it home from work by six so he can feed and walk his dog before she eats his shoes and shits on the carpet. it's not a lot to hope for, when your job starts at five am and consists of felling trees and removing the debris — which is harder than it looks, but his team works on contract; they leave on _time,_ thanks — but it apparently _is_ a lot to hope for when your entire existence is being haunted by a persistent “activist.”

not, like, literally haunted — the guy is very much alive — but he's been at every commercial site for the last month. chan has started bringing an extra thermos of coffee. because it's chilly at five, not because it gives him an excuse to leave his truck and talk to the guy with very strong-looking arms and very long eyelashes and an exceptionally chiseled jawline.

or maybe because it does. because yeah, he mostly dates women, but he's not above having fun with someone who looks like _that,_ even if he is making his professional life a living hell.

details.

the radio in his truck crackles, followed by a heavy sigh that could only belong to jihoon. "channie, your boyfriend is here again."

chan grits his teeth and whines, "he's not my boyfriend."

"whatever, just get over here and deal with him."

their approach at this point has been to work around him and the tree he chains himself to, but eventually that gets dangerous. no one wants to be sued for injuring the guy or have their licenses revoked. it's also, you know, extremely inconvenient.

jihoon was assigned an eastern quadrant, but they agree to switch and chan heads that way. he finds the guy in the same situation he usually does: with his back against a tree, chain wrapped around his waist and padlocked. he glares up over the hood and into the cab of the truck, also like usual. it's ridiculous.

chan grabs the thermos and hops down out of the truck. he realizes something is wrong when he approaches the guy and no scathing remark rolls off his tongue.

his knees giving out and him sliding to the ground like a rag doll is also a big clue.

he runs over to the guy, because, you know, anyone would worry when someone looks like they’ve passed out chained to a tree. it’s generally concerning behavior, even if it’s someone you haven’t been lusting after for like two weeks, he tells himself.

“hey, um — shit, i don’t know your name. are you okay?” he asks, tossing the thermos on the ground and crouching down next to the guy. his chin is resting against his chest. chan wonders if he had, like, one of those brain blood vessel things that burst and killed him instantly, but he groans and rolls his head back to lean against the tree. so he’s probably alive.

he moistens his lips and his mouth forms the shapes of syllables, but nothing comes out. “ _ffffffu—_ ” he tries, and that seems to work for him, so he tries again. “vernon.” it comes out barely audible and croaky.

chan does realize he should back away and call a hazmat team or something, at least an ambulance. or cops, first? a locksmith? jihoon to come with a chainsaw? probably someone actually working in this quadrant, like seungcheol. anyway, how do you remove padlocks?

instead, he leans in closer and raises the back of his hand cautiously to the guy’s forehead. 

vernon. vernon’s forehead.

it’s sticky with sweat and very hot. like, temperature-wise against his own skin, but also… hot. the guy is hot.

chan sighs. “you have a fever. what are you doing out here?”

“birds,” vernon groans. “ _squirrels._ ”

“are you sleeping fucking beauty or something? they’ll find new homes.”

and that? that makes his neck straighten. he locks eyes with chan — they look ridiculously glassy and overall not like eyes belonging to someone who should be anywhere but bed, let alone _chained to a tree_ — and scowls. in a frightening moment of absolute lucidity, he spits, “not if you keep fucking cutting down all the trees in the city.”

“i’m not the one ordering all of this, i don’t own the land. i’m doing my _job._ you should try it instead of making my life a living hell every day.”

he laughs, dryly, and immediately winces. chan kind of feels bad for him for a second.

maybe two.

“look, you really should be in bed,” he sighs. “i promise you, there’s nothing you can do to change what’s going to happen here. the city council votes on these things, they take input from residents, you should be going to those meetings instead of doing this.” it’s not that he doesn’t feel a little guilty about what he does for a living, he doesn’t hate animals, but he also kind of thinks they’re nuisances more than anything, and well-intentioned people that feed them aren’t exactly helpful.

“i _do_ go to them. no one cares, because capitalism,” vernon whines.

six. he needs to be home by six. he’d like to spend the extra money from his paychecks in ways that aren’t replacing his shoes and renting carpet cleaning equipment. honestly, vernon being sick is probably the biggest potential boon to his productivity he’s had since they started meeting every morning.

“look, i’d honestly love to talk about this some other time,” chan lies, “but will you let me take you home?”

“you're just trying to get me to leave.”

which… yeah, obviously, but he's also legitimately worried and says as much.

vernon rasps, “pocket.”

chan looks at him blankly.

“key. pocket,” he tries again.

a light bulb goes off, and chan reaches for his jacket.

“no,” he groans. chan freezes, hand hovering near his jacket. “other side,” he adds. “pants.”

which… oh. reaching into a stranger's pants wasn't on the agenda for today, but whatever. he gets the key — why do they make them so _tiny_ — with minimal disruption to vernon’s thigh. he thinks.

vernon sighs, clearly unhappy with the situation, so maybe there _was_ disruption. too late to worry about it now.

chan unlocks the padlock, sticks the key in his own pocket — he’s _not_ reaching back into vernon’s, no way — and unwraps the chain. he stuffs it into vernon’s backpack along with the abandoned thermos, slings the whole thing over his shoulder, and gets to work heaving vernon’s dead weight off the ground.

vernon won’t look at him, just pouts with his eyes staring off to the side.

honestly, chan could’ve threatened to run him over with the truck a long time ago. he’s been very polite and very civil — he even brings him _coffee_ — and feels like he deserves more appreciation for his sacrifices.

but anyway.

he manages to get vernon to the truck. getting him _into_ it is another struggle, and he doesn’t want to think about the body parts he had to grab to get it done. he slouches against the door the second it’s shut.

when he’s in himself, he grabs his radio and lets everyone know there’s an emergency and he’ll be back soon. he waits for an acknowledgement, then clicks it off and turns to vernon. “where do you live?”

“window is nice,” he mutters. “live over there.”

“helpful.”

vernon points impatiently. “next to here.”

“in the apartments?”

“yeah.”

_oh,_ chan thinks, because that makes sense. he dragged himself out here because these are birds and squirrels he thinks he knows. what an _idiot._ sentimental, hot, animal-loving, caring, snarky _idiot._

🌳🌳🌳

he gets vernon home and into his apartment. thankfully, his door keys are in his backpack — no more reaching into his pants, today. his fever seems worse, somehow, so he drops vernon on his bed and digs through his bathroom cabinet for medicine, then his kitchen for a pitcher to fill with water.

it’s incredibly weird and invasive, but he clearly lives alone and is too delirious to do it himself.

it’s the right thing to do.

his mother would be proud of him.

and he thinks vernon mumbles a “thanks” when he’s leaving the bedroom, so maybe it was okay.

he leaves the padlock key on the kitchen counter. there’s a notepad and pen there — he doesn’t know what for, who the hell keeps paper around their house like it’s the 1950s anymore? — but it catches his attention. before he can think, he scribbles “call me if you need anything,” his name and number, and puts the key on top of it.

🌳🌳🌳

he doesn’t call.

the team finishes clearing out the woods next to his apartment complex and chan has a few days off before the next contract starts. he considers dropping by vernon’s apartment, but are you supposed to do that when the only reason you know where someone lives is because of an emergency? besides, what if he’s dead? if chan has to call the police, he’d be the number one suspect in his murder.

so obviously, that won’t work.

but he spends the entire weekend thinking about it.

on monday, he makes an extra thermos of coffee like usual and heads to their new site. he’s never questioned how vernon knows where they’re developing next, he just always seems to appear.

but he doesn’t.

chan starts to worry, and he almost fucks up a felling cut in a way that could’ve caused a serious accident, so after work he decides to drop by vernon’s place. to alleviate some of his concern, that’s all. free up some brain cells for not killing people in the woods or crushing expensive equipment.

he looks surprised when he answers the door, like that stupid pikachu meme seungcheol showed him that one time. also a lot better than the last time chan saw him. very much alive.

“i was worried you died,” chan blurts.

“i didn't,” vernon replies flatly.

“um, i see that. i'll—” he starts, turning away.

vernon grabs his elbow. “they're all gone. i know it's not your fault, but i was mad at you anyway.”

“okay, sorry for bothering—”

“i’ve been pestering the city council more seriously instead of you guys. figured you were right and what i was doing wasn’t fair. i was going to call.”

chan gapes at him.

vernon smirks. “are you doing anything right now?”

“my dog. she needs dinner and a walk. i have to get home.” vernon’s face falls. “i can go out after that, though, if—” chan cuts himself off, because “oh, god, not that you said you wanted to—”

“dinner. i want to take you to dinner,” vernon says, and he’s _grinning_ and he’s wearing a stupid beanie and it’s _cute._

“oh. yeah. yeah, i can do dinner.”

“good. when can you be back?”

chan cannot believe this is happening, but also he cannot believe _this_ is _happening._ “an hour?”

vernon lets go of his elbow, running his fingers down his forearm like he doesn’t actually want to let go, and seriously, what is _happening?_ “see you in an hour, chan. casual clothes are fine.”

chan nods, because he can’t speak, because he’s the lamest person in _existence_ apparently.

🌳🌳🌳

(dinner is a relaxed burger place. vernon eats so slowly that chan makes it through his burger, a whole basket of fries, and two milkshakes before he’s done. but it gives them plenty of time to talk about university, and growing up, and how vernon _has_ a job, thanks very much, and how that job is _making music,_ which chan thinks is the coolest job anyone could possibly have, and how the city council really hates him, and how he decided to channel his passion for random woodland creatures into volunteering for a wildlife rescue, and…)  


**Author's Note:**

> is that ending totally lame because i was TIRED OF WRITING THIS? yes. do i think it works? also yes. have i eaten in the last five hours because of this hellish piece of trash? no. i'm going to do that. tune in tomorrow for more of my nonsense. <3


End file.
